Appraise of stephen b. wileys first book of poetry: hero island - poetry
Poet Stephen B. Wiley's first book of poetry, Hero Island, reflects tender snapshots and reminiscent overviews of a choice of stages of his life as a kid operational on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his children in Northern Vermont, and his activist stance on life.
His elegant authority of dialect magically explores and brings to life such different topics as the scoop we are disinclined to part with, city living, aperture up of the summer cottage, shucking corn, Albert Einstein and world federation, and the more burdensome come into contact with as the death of a loved one. All are calm with a great deal of introspection and with a sincere palette of words that are by far affable to even the inexperienced poetry reader.
Particularly affecting and one that struck home is "Going," where Wiley portrays the cursory away of his ninety-four year old father-something I face-to-face just freshly qualified with the death away of my father-in-law. The end of the poem's bald oral dialect sadly describes his inner feelings:
"I knew minister wouldn't die
Above all, Wiley's dilution lies in that his poems are characterized by a sense of awe and nostalgia with which he imbues his reflections, that is neither sad nor frustrated, as is often the case with so many poets. Moreover, metaphors are natural and fresh, flat with vitality, as exemplified in the first two stanzas of his poem To My Hands:
"Yes, yes I do admire your solo work
And I'm proud that clothes are named for you
Quite remarkable is Wiley's remarkable skill with language, conceivably attributable to his legal training. When I interviewed him and asked him how had this exaggerated his poetry writing, his laconic reply was "words are the business be important of law - vocal words and printed words - and precision of foreign language is most important. Poetry draws on the same strengths. " That just about sums up the poetic style of Stephen B. Wiley.
Although, I must admit that I firstly opened Wiley's book of poems with some trepidation, my only grumble, when accomplishment the last poem, was that I did not have a sufficient amount of it. It is my hope that Hero Island only marks the creation of a long and creative career.
Norm Goldman is the Editor of the Book Reviewing site http://www. bookpleasures. com and the move site, http://www. sketchandtravel. com
Norm is also a go author and as one with his actor wife, Lily, they meld words with art focusing on romantic and wedding destinations.
A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for the FluWhen I get a case of the FearsWhat is a character to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from atmosphere wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill exceedingly hit the spotThat was great and now I am doneOne bowl just won't doIf one is good, then more is greatAnd now I have eaten two.Bowls three, four, five and sixCame and then they wentI think my case of the fears are fixedLook at how my time was spentI am being paid sleepyIt is time to go to bedMy fears are no longer in my stomachNow they are in my headI close my eyes and I can boil Fears I want to killI will do, at all it takesTo keep the monsters still.
Rules for Journalism Poetry
You've been inscription poetry since that first assignment in your high instruct characters class. You know the rules about inscription poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you everyday the poetry forums athwart the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who inflexibly assert that there are no rules for inscription poetry and if a big shot even suggests conception poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a cynical front.
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe break of day mist, insists there is a God. The earth cadaver faithful to its orbit.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful -Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When he stabbed Major Amestoy Sleeping in the dark In Bolivar's hammock!.
Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In buckets, buckets and more buckets-: drops Likened to music from its many streams-land Of ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravel Everywhere?Grandpa sits on the porch-daydreaming of, of Something, perchance coldness about the corner-; As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes? Leaves will soon vanish, darkness will come earlyMaybe he's belief about summer: miles and miles And miles and miles of cornfields; his childhood now Long gone, he hums a hymn, a song; looking at the Metal-piped fence, he made, with three poles, on the Embankment, most important up the steps to the porch; It's worn-out like him.The winds in Minnesota smell fresh, fresh from all The foliage, there's a lot of it.
Two Poems and an Assay ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Examination ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a denotation but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Calm Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bound day,When all through the controlled waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague darkness that stand the dead,Slipped down the arched coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Blond Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies roofed Haigh Asbury's dispossessed head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves out of action on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
Do you ever stare at the paper, before you for poetic inspiration? Well, you can stop ahead of you and start using systematic techniques for creating poetry. If it seems too mechanical or fake at first, don't worry.
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none. nothing.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by appraisal poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antediluvian texts clandestine in caves.
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while peripatetic througout Chief and South America.Three Poems While in Transition (In Spanish and English)Poem OneEnglish VersionOrange Timid MoonO´er the Copan skyan arch of darkness weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the azure blue of the skiesOr the cobalt of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's twelve-monthly trekAlternately arousing the life in the earthAnd then loss away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming afar my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
Hindu Poet - Kamalakanta
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he spoken an activity in religion and later in life Kamalakanta conventional beginning into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya.
A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War--l952]
There I sat, ninety-five grade weatherOutside; the bookstore café, was cool.An Old Timer stood by me, explaining:"There were two-hundred of us on the Island,Near North Korea, back in '52-We guarded 16,000-prisners?"All of a sudden, all hell broke looseThree-hundred North Koreans cameOver the bob-wired fence, in pursuit"It all happened in a affair of secondsThe machineguns killed 150-of themThat's all I saw in the war of '52.
Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is characteristic of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by sore heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey by means of poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and monetary achievement can be identified by all Scots and communal men the world over.
Publishing Your Poetry
If you are critical about as your work available by honest publishers, there are a few points you ought to consider. At the outset and most obviously, you need to clarify if you have poetry worth publishing.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn idly in front of the doorThey open wide screening mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn a different brainy and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe silky-smooth scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking arranged at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she in a classy manner sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the year 23,700 BC that one of the two moons of earth was hit by a meteor that of which, a great part of the moon broke off and hit earth's appear with a devastating impact. Thus the solar arrangement absorbed a debacle in indescribable proportions, from Jupiter to Mars; knocking Earth out of its 100,000-year Ice Age.
A Happiness Poem
If a happiness poem could bring forth a smile, Then my face would at all times dress in style.If my ears could hear my mainframe screen, From one to another, they, too, would grin.
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